


Cream

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12589392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil indulges.





	Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Just pull up—I can get out anywhere.”

Thranduil mutters, “There’s nowhere to park,” beneath his breath and keeps driving. He can feel the roll of Legolas’ judgmental eyes boring into his skull, but he ignores it as easily as Legolas ignores _his_ judgment. When he pulls around the corner, he finally spots a space between two cars. Rolling into it, he explains, “I have my own business, so you’ll have to get yourself home.” He pauses just long enough to give Legolas a stern look that he accompanies with: “Which I expect you to do _before_ midnight.”

For once, Legolas doesn’t make the argument that he’s well past his majority and entitled to stay out however late he likes, even if it’s with that redheaded ruffian he’s so fond of or, worse, _dwarves_. Instead, Legolas asks, “What business?” As though there’s nothing Thranduil could possibly want in this part of town. 

To be fair, usually, there wouldn’t be. Thranduil peers over his seat as he adjusts into the space. “I have a date.”

“Oh,” Legolas grunts, immediately petty again. “With your _boytoy._ ”

Having parallel parked to perfection, Thranduil turns his key and unclips his seatbelt. He doesn’t give Legolas an answer, because he doesn’t need to. It wouldn’t be the first time Legolas tried to shame him out of getting laid, but it’s never worked. 

While they climb out of the car, Legolas still tries, “Adar, seriously—he’s _my_ age.”

“Actually, he’s two years younger.” The driver’s door clicks shut, effectively ending the conversation. Yet he does give his heir a winning smile, resisting the urge to add that his sweet boyfriend is well past the age of majority, and has also already moved out on his own, unlike _some_ elves.

With a pained sigh, Legolas flitters off. He’s got his phone out a second later, and Thranduil can’t help but wonder with amusement if he’s being ranted about on social media again. It won’t matter. As gorgeous and talented as Legolas is, all of Thranduil’s pages have more followers anyway.

Forgetting his beloved brat for the moment, Thranduil heads in the opposite direction. It’s a bright, clear day, though a little on the cold side, and the crisp evening air makes it easy to slip out of father-mode and back into general personhood. In his tight jeans and designer jacket, he feels more than a fair trade for his young lover. He’s yet to have any complaints. The coffee shop where they’ll begin the evening isn’t far, only a block and a half, and Thranduil still gets a few appreciative looks as he passes the busy street. He wears his blond hair the same as Legolas—long and straight in the Elven tradition, and it billows behind him in the raw wind. By the time he’s outside the glass doors of the familiar coffee chain, he’s looking forward to a hot drink. 

He’s looking even more forward to seeing his date, but it takes a second to pick him out of the crowd. The tables are mostly full, but none hold the delicious young man Thranduil’s won himself. The line is long, and after a searching glance and then a double-take, Thranduil spots his prey. 

He moves forward without a second thought, cutting in line with the knowledge that no one would challenge someone so confident and powerful as him. He sidles up behind a slender body wrapped in a floral-print mini-dress, half-covered in a sheet of silken, honey-coloured hair. When he presses up against that slim form, he earns a little gasp, and he even reaches around to press his hand against a taut stomach, easing the entire frame back into him. His hips press forward into a round ass, and Meludir glances over his shoulder, bright eyes already thick with lust. 

He’s as easy as he is beautiful. Thranduil bucks shamelessly into him, right there in the middle of the lineup. Thranduil’s larger body blocks Meludir’s so effectively that no one behind them should notice, and no one in front looks around. A pink smile stretches wide across Meludir’s glossed lips. Thranduil has to fight the urge to kiss them, because he knows he won’t do it lightly. 

He ducks his head over Meludir’s shoulder instead, where he can purr into Meludir’s pointed ear, “If I wanted a girl, I would’ve asked one out.” His voice is more teasing than admonishing, and Meludir shivers from it. Thranduil’s often wondered if he actually _likes_ being scolded.

Or maybe he just likes everything Thranduil does to him. He tilts subtly back and whispers in return, “I just thought you might want easier access.” And his delicate hand lays over Thranduil’s larger one, gently tugging it down towards the lacy hem. Thranduil pinches it between his fingers.

He starts to drag it up, exposing more of Meludir’s luscious thighs for his greedy touch. Meludir’s breath hitches, but he lets Thranduil do it. Thranduil’s already learned that Meludir would let him do nearly _anything_.

Thranduil could probably rip this flimsy thing off his model of a lover right here in public, push Meludir down and ravish him on the floor. Meludir would love it and only beg for more. But Thranduil has more restraint that that, and he stops just short of Meludir’s tantalizing hip. Meludir quivers, and Thranduil holds him there. He longs to thrust his hand between Meludir’s legs, but no one gets to see what rests there besides _him_. 

The line moves forward. Thranduil gives Meludir a little push, and Meludir drifts out of his grasp, skirt falling back into place. Thranduil comes up behind him again, but this time only wraps him in a firm embrace with two arms across his middle. Meludir giggles, and Thranduil bends forward to kiss his temple. Thranduil can’t see it properly from his angle, but he knows Meludir’s smiling radiantly. That smile is what seduced him in the first place. 

Then the line shifts again, this time much faster, and they reach the counter. Meludir orders his complex blended creation, and Thranduil gets his even more stringent version of altered espresso. He pays for both before Meludir has any chance. 

Then Thranduil ushers Meludir towards the washroom, where they can pass the time better until their drinks are ready.


End file.
